


The Scars That Show

by shealynn88



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Savior Complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-11
Updated: 2006-08-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: Four times Veronica sees Weevil after 'Not Pictured,' and one time she doesn't.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Veronica Mars & Eli "Weevil" Navarro
Kudos: 2





	The Scars That Show

Logan offers to come with her, but she feels like this is something she has to do alone. With all the death she's seen she should be used to it, but she's not.

There must be close to fifty people here, and the kids are playing tag around the gravestones as the adults gather quietly around the gravesite. Veronica gets strange looks, but no one makes a scene and she starts to relax.

The extended family is on one side, clustered together in a fog of grief. There's one glaring absence and that's a big part of why Veronica's here, even though she assured Logan it wasn't. She doesn't know why she feels responsible. She knows none of this is her fault.

But she's here because he's not. Because someone should be here to say good-bye for him. She's not the best choice, but she knows he's too proud to ask someone else.

Everyone takes turns throwing dirt on the coffin, and when it's hers, she's not sure what to say, even in her head. She never really knew Letty Navarro, and now she sort of wishes she had.

_I hope you're okay, wherever you are. I hope you'll keep watching over Weevil. He still needs you._

She tosses the dirt and watches as the wind catches it, suspending it in the air for a long moment before it finally settles onto the coffin.

She visits him a few days later, stalking past Lamb when he unlocks the door to the cellblock and gives her a shallow smile. There is no proper visiting room in Neptune, and so she finds herself standing outside Weevil's cell, watching him pace.

The bars don't seem enough to separate her from the storm.

"The service was beautiful," she says, because there isn't much else to say.

His jaw clenches, and she's not sure if he's holding back tears or fury. She used to be able to read him better but even in these few weeks, they've both changed.

When he punches the frame of his empty bunk, she flinches. Then she watches the blood fall from his fist in tiny droplets, and she wonders if her pain ever shows like that. She likes to think she hides it better, even though she still feels it. A few invisible drops for Lilly, for her mother, for Meg, for Duncan, for what Beav—what Cassidy took from her.

She leaves Weevil with a few more words…she thinks she says she's sorry, that his grandmother was a great woman, that she's sure Letty was proud of him…and then she turns away. She says she'll be back, and she almost means it.

But as she walks outside, she remembers his blood dripping on the cement floor and she feels raw and uncertain again.

She hates that feeling.

When Veronica sees him again, it's pure coincidence—both of them at the same little SuperMart at the same time. She's buying gas, he's getting cigarettes. She can't remember him smoking before this, but it's the least of the changes. He has new tattoos, smudges of blue under each eye, and there's a hardness in his expression and the line of his arms that wasn't there before. Veronica wonders what it means—the new ink and the new almost-sneer that twists his mouth. She wonders if she'd know if she'd gone to see him more often than that one time.

She'd meant to, she really had. But he'd reminded her of things…of a life she didn't want to remember anymore.

Everything with Logan had felt fresh and new, and even tinted by Cassidy's death and that moment on the rooftop, their time had been fun and light and a little giddy. They had both been making up for the darkness of staring down a gun barrel. And now they were coming down off the high of almost dying, of saving one life and losing another, and Veronica wasn't feeling so giddy anymore.

There was nothing to say to Weevil. She didn't have words that would cover it. Any of it. _"I'm sorry?"_ What for? She hadn't done anything. And sorry, she learned a long time ago, never changed anything.

 _"Nice to see you?"_ It wasn't like she'd sought him out, or he her. It was just coincidence, and she's acutely aware of the fact that she made no effort to see him since that one visit almost 8 months ago.

 _"How's it going?"_ She isn't sure she wants to know. He's changed—it's clear by the way he moves, the darkness in his eyes. She's a little afraid to know what he's changed into.

It's out of her hands when he catches her watching and strides over with a smooth, predatory walk that makes his previous strut seem comical in comparison. She misses it.

"V," he says, looking her up and down with disturbing intensity.

She smiles, distinctly uncomfortable. "Weevil."

They stand there for a long moment, just staring at each other. The silence stretches out awkwardly.

Finally, Weevil turns away, and Veronica mobilizes suddenly, reaching out for one muscled arm. "Are you okay?" she asks in a rush, knowing it's the wrong thing to say.

He spins as soon as her fingers brush his arm, and he looks…savage. " _Don't,_ " he hisses, catching her wrist cruelly. He moves a little closer, threatening.

"Wha—" she says, shocked and suddenly afraid when she can't twist away. This isn't the Weevil she used to know.

He's close enough that she can feel his breath burst over her cheek. "Don't you _dare_ pretend you give a shit!"

Her wrist is starting to ache, and he shows no signs of letting up. "Weevil," she says, as evenly as she can manage. "You're hurting me."

He stares at her hand, then closes his eyes a moment before finally letting go. "Am I okay?" he asks, laughing bitterly. He shakes his head. "I'm working on it." His voice is rough, but not quite as hard as it had been. It's not much, but it's something.

Veronica nods and he walks away. She watches every step.

He's far from okay.

But then, so is she.

Almost a month later she's on the strip, getting some pictures for her dad during a long weekend away from school. Weevil's across the street, smoking on the corner, and she watches him for a minute before turning to cross the street.

She never gets the chance. A corvette drives up and Weevil strides forward, speaking to the passenger for a few minutes and then giving some elaborate hand shake.

Veronica shivers as she watches—it's smooth like it's been choreographed. They're good, but she doesn't need to see the flash of bills to know what's going on. She's been around Neptune too long for that.

She drives away feeling sick, wondering why he gave up in there. Nine months, and Balboa County has given birth to someone harder and darker than the boy she knew. Maybe the only thing that had kept him to his personal code was his grandmother. Maybe this is all that's left of him—another dealer on the strip, ready to die young and leave a good looking corpse.

A girl leaves as Veronica's going up the steps, and she gets a heavy once-over from dark, narrow eyes. Veronica wonders, not for the first time, why she's bothered to come at all. She knows he doesn't want to hear from her.

Weevil opens the door and his clothes are rumpled. "Veronica Mars. What did I do this time? Or are you here for the thrills?"

Veronica glances behind her at the retreating girl. "Looks like the thrills are on their way out."

Weevil laughs, and it's that dark, bitter laugh that she heard at the convenience store. "Yeah, well, jail time is a big aphrodisiac in the barrio. Too bad it didn't up my value on the job market."

"From what I've seen, it doesn't look like you need a job." She tips her head, trying for curious instead of sad, or worse, disappointed. "Weevil, I don't understand…"

He laughs again. "What is there to understand, V? I'm not a suit and tie kinda guy, is all. I do what I'm good at."

"I thought you were good at cars."

"Yeah, well, apparently the customers aren't real fond of me. Thumper was a neighborhood boy, you know?"

She shakes her head. "What I don't understand is why you did what you did to _him_ , and then headed right into the same racket." She shook her head. "I thought you hated the Fitzpatricks and what they do?"

"I'm not in it with the Fitzpatricks. I'm on my own." He meets her eyes and he looks angry again. Still. She wonders if that fury ever fades.

"And that makes it different?"

"Yeah, it does. My problem isn't with the drugs, V. Never was. It was with my boys going behind my back. And now there are no boys. Just me, and bills that need to be paid."

"This isn't you," she whispers, and she knows, again, that it's the wrong thing to say. She's always had a glib tongue, a quick mind. But, as much as she pretends otherwise, things are different now. She's a little off in every aspect of her life. So she says it, and she knows a blow-up is about to come, and her instincts there, at least, are right on.

His mouth twists angrily and he leans forward, every muscle tensing, every line of his body sharp and hard. " _That's_ where you're wrong," he hisses. "And the only person who ever believed different is dead. So I'm not pretending anymore, Veronica. This _is_ the real me." He shakes his head, his mouth curving in a bitter smile. "Sorry to disappoint you, chica. Now, scram. I got shit to do."

She knows she should go. There is no fixing someone who doesn't want it—her mother taught her that. But she can't let this go. It matters, even if she can't put her finger on why.

It almost feels like her fate is tied to his. Which is ridiculous. There had never been two people in Neptune so different. Except maybe her and Logan…and she's already trying to save him.

"What about you?" she asks. "Did _you_ ever think you were more than this?" She swallows as his jaw clenches and he backs up to close the door in her face. Her voice is quiet. "Because I did."

The door opens again. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I disappoint you? Well, let me go cry in my beer." He's dark again, hateful. "Fuck you, Veronica. Morals are great when you have something to stand on, but personally, I'd rather be able to eat and pay the mortgage than worry about what the great Veronica Mars thinks of me. You never compromise, though, do you? You don't ever pick sides or go against the law."

He's mocking her again, and she's trying not to show how stunned she is. How hurt. He'd been at her back so long, she's forgotten how cruel he can be.

"Yeah," he says, responding to her shock. "I didn't think so." He slams the door shut and leaves her in the oppressive heat of the California sun.

She feels cold and unsteady, like she's just lost a friend.

She touches the door before she leaves, reassuring herself that it was all real. She's numb as she backtracks down the walkway, but this isn't over.

She's spent most of her life trying to save people…and failing.

But she can't help thinking that one of these days, she's going to succeed. So, why not now? Why not him?

Why not her?


End file.
